Balanced
by psquare
Summary: [SPD] After a freak accident, the unthinkable happens: Sky and Bridge exchange bodies! Hilarity, Mayhem, and a little bit of brotherly understanding follow. [SkyZ, BridgeSyd]
1. Exchange

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognise in this story.

**_Balanced _**

One of the primary advantages of being an SPD Ranger, Schulyer Tate reflected, was that you rarely got an off day. No off days meant more duty. More time to achieve his goals. More criminals behind bars.

More excuses to ignore the insanity around him.

Which included Bridge presently dancing around him like a crazed maniac.

Sky snapped his handbook shut with a sigh. "Bridge."

Bridge stopped, grinning at him benignly. "Yeah, and they were dancing like that. They seriously thought I was some sort of God, you know? It was kind of weird. I mean, yeah, dreams usually _are_ weird, but I'd rate this quite high on the weirdness scale – if such a thing exists, of course. But anyway…"

"Come _on_, Bridge," Sydney Drew said exasperatedly from the other end of the room, as she tried to rub off her latest experiments with nail polish off her toes. Maybe she should've paid more attention to the "Durable Shades" on the label… "You had a weird dream. _Fine_. Leave us in peace now, will you?"

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Sky said smugly, opening his handbook once again.

"And you, Sky," Z Delgado spoke up, removing her headphones. "You're hardly one to talk about quirky habits. It's, what, the hundredth time you're reading that damn SPD handbook?"

"Well, at least I'm doing something _productive_," Sky snapped back. "Unlike some _other_ people I know," he added, glaring at his three teammates, who promptly glared back. Well, all except Bridge, who had slipped back into his daydreams.

Just as the tension seemed as if it would explode, Jack Landors entered the Rangers' Rec. Room, stretching his limbs. "Boy, that was a good workout." He stopped suddenly, sensing the silence in the room – a heaviness that hung in the air like a fur coat on a hot day. "Hey, what's up with you people?"

"Nothing," Sky snapped petulantly, and returned to his handbook.

"Nothing? How can my dream be nothing?" Bridge demanded suddenly, apparently having snapped out of his daydreams.

"Well, it is," Sky said, frowning.

"Oh? Oh yeah?" Bridge's eyes flared unexpectedly, effectively stunning everybody else in the room into shocked silence. "If I were you, Sky," Bridge went on, stepping closer to the Blue Ranger, "I'd pay more attention to what my team mates are saying, respect their opinions, and at least _try_ to behave like someone who'd be a good leader one day!"

Jack, Syd, and Z winced as one. _Touched a raw nerve there, huh._

Sky snapped his book shut with a deafening thud and set it aside carefully, almost reverently. He then got up from the couch with a slow preciseness that seemed to scream murderous intent. "Is that so." It wasn't a question. "Well, Bridge, let me tell you this: if I were you, I'd at least _try_ behaving sensibly and giving an opinion that was actually even worth _considering_!"

Bridge looked like Sky had just punched him in the gut.

Sky's fists had clenched so hard that the knuckles were white, and his shoulders were shaking.

Jack decided it was good time to interfere.

"Guys, stop this," he said, stepping in between the Blue and Green Rangers, deciding Sky was the better person to glare at. An angry Bridge was just too… _eerie_. "We just came from SWAT tor… I mean, training, and _already_ you two are fighting." A hint of a smile quirked a corner of his lips. "Care for another week of Sergeant Silverback?"

That, as expected, seemed to have the desired impact. Sky deflated, and Bridge averted his eyes.

"Good. I thought so." Jack's face split into a wide grin. "How about you two oversee some D-Squad training right now? The selections for promotion into C-Squad are coming pretty soon."

"Yeah. Sure." Sky rubbed the back of his neck, still trying to reorient himself. "Though from what I've seen already, almost all of them have a long way to go before they're close to even C-Squad material."

"I think they have the talent and the determination to make it by next month," Bridge said, some of that uncharacteristic coldness still lingering in his voice.

Jack sighed. "Listen guys, another word from you is going to bring Kruger here. And when he comes…"

"Fine!" Sky put up his hands. "Fine already! We're going!" He grabbed his hand-pistol and returned it to its holster and headed to the door, Bridge close behind him. Jack watched them go with a helpless incredulity that he wondered would stay with him for the rest of his tenure at SPD. Their team was a forced clashing of five individuals who preferred to stay that way, their only connecting link being all that they had experienced – and survived – together as SPD Rangers over the past year.

That link was all that they needed.

But it was times like this that Jack wondered if only that were enough…

"You know, Sky, I'm willing to give you another chance. You see, after they danced and declared I was their God… no, wait, I think they declared I was their God _before_ they started dancing. I mean, it'd be kind of stupid – yeah, even for a dream – if they had done it the opposite way, and…"

"_Bridge_!"

* * *

Ideas with the noblest of intentions sometimes turn out to be the worst decisions ever made. Sky decided he could add Jack's decision to send him and Bridge to oversee the D-Squad training to that list. If his mood hadn't been one really conducive to good humour an hour before, he was sure he would explode at the drop of a pin _now_.

Really, where was the proper training and _hard work_ that he had gone through in his D-Squad days?

"We were like this once too, you know," Bridge said suddenly from his side. Sky's frown deepened. Damn his ability to read his mind. "You've just got to give those guys another chance."

Sky sighed and turned back to the screen outside the simulator room, which showed the D-Squad tackling a group of simulated Krybots. "We have nothing but chances to give them, Bridge." He winced as he saw two of the Krybots easily outfight and floor a cadet. If that had been a real fight, that cadet would've had a smoking hole in his chest by now. "But they're going to have to learn that there're no second chances in real life."

Even Bridge was solemn as the D-Squad cadets fell one by one, no semblance of teamwork in their attacks, and little to no concentration on defence. Sky decided that he'd had enough. Reaching up, he flipped a few switches above the simulator screen. The simulation immediately powered down, and the D-Squad picked themselves up slowly from the floor, still disoriented. Sky and Bridge entered the room, the former fixing the younger cadets with one of his notorious glares.

He took a deep breath. "D-Squad cadets, I was very disappointed with your performance." Bridge winced. Sky had never been one to sugarcoat things. "It would seem that none of you are not ready to make the transition into C-Squad – where the training is _much_ tougher – yet. I saw sparks of brilliance here and there, but there was no consistency. And most importantly, no sense of co-ordination or teamwork." Sky crossed his arms over his chest. "I guess you guys need to revisit your basics."

A tall young man, red-haired, with a defiant glint in his brown eyes, apparently the leader of the group, stepped forward. "Basics, sir? But we completed our preliminary training before entering D-Squad…"

"Don't let the words 'preliminary training' fool you," Bridge said, almost sympathetically. "What you went through before this was just a basic assessment of whether you'd make it in SPD or not. Something like a physical exam. Yeah, I know that wasn't probably the greatest of analogies, but I trust that you guys are intelligent enough to understand that. And speaking of intelligence…"

"Bridge."

Bridge stopped himself with some effort, glancing at his B-Squad teammate sheepishly.

"Thank you." Sky snapped his glare back on to the hapless cadets. "Now, talking as we were about returning to the basics, we'll start off with some simple one-on-one sparring routines."

One of the girls of the group – a cheeky little thing with an impish grin – stepped forward. "Sir, how about a demonstration before we start practising?"

Sky frowned. "Demonstration?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sure it'll be very… _helpful_ to all of us, if you and Ranger Carson could demonstrate some of your skills."

_You mean it'll be very entertaining_, Sky thought darkly, but realised he couldn't refuse. Besides, there were a few pointers he'd been meaning to give the lower Squad for a long time…

"Sure, why not?" Bridge exclaimed enthusiastically from his side. "'Sides, Sky, it's been ages since you and I sparred."

_I wish he hadn't made it sound it like he was **convincing** me to spar with him…_ "Of course." He walked slowly to the opposite end of the room and turned around, facing Bridge, arms up in the traditional readying stance. "Let's start now."

Bridge grinned and slipped into stance as well, while the D-Squad members retreated deferentially into the antechamber, where the huge screen provided them a fantastic view.

The fight started.

It was almost stuttering at first, as if the two friends were rediscovering each other's strengths and weaknesses, silently marvelling at how much the other had evolved in terms of technique and determination. Blows were exchanged, kicks were parried, and the space in the room was suddenly white interspersed with flashing blurs of grey, blue and green as the two young men displayed incredible acrobatics as they lunged, blocked and swiped at each other.

D-Squad watched, mouths agape.

Sky grinned as Bridge's grey uniform filled his vision as the Green Ranger attempted a spinning kick. He ducked underneath it, and while Bridge's momentum had him temporarily stumbling, dipped low and kick-swept Bridge's feet from underneath him.

Bridge tumbled to the floor but was back on his feet in a flash, responding to Sky's move with a series of lightning-quick punches that brushed against Sky's desperately dodging visage almost teasingly – Bridge had always been the faster and more flexible of the two. Sky's grin widened as he acknowledged the challenge being presented before him.

It was time to show _his_ advantage over Bridge.

Concentrating hard, he caught Bridge's arm as it came up for the next punch, gripping it hard. Bridge squirmed and brought up the other hand, but due to his heavily decreased mobility, Sky was able to easily catch it as well. "Much to learn you still have, Padawan," Sky teased.

Bridge rolled his eyes. "Oh, come off it."

Sky shifted his grip, preparing to flip the Green Ranger over him. His hands pushed up Bridge's gloves in the process –

Bridge leaned forward in his struggles to get free, and his forehead brushed against Sky's –

-- And both of their universes exploded in a flash of dazzling white.

Many days later, when Sky would reflect on this event, he would still find himself unable to describe what exactly happened to both of them. His head seemed as if it would explode – not with pain, but a seeping heaviness that seemed to pull his entire body to the ground – and his insides felt as if they were being squeezed out of him by an invisible hand. Through it all, he could hear Bridge's laboured gasping. Clearly.

A little _too_ clearly, in fact.

So clear, that his universe seemed to reverberate with the sound.

Finally, with some effort, the two of them pulled away from each other, blinking and _highly_ disoriented. Sky reflected that he'd felt this way – at a time that seemed to be long, long ago – before, but while that memory brought with it emotions of pain and despair, this time the feeling was one of… serenity. Peace. _Enlightenment_, even.

Sky didn't know what had happened, but it felt good.

"Bridge," he said, wincing slightly at the lighter tones his voice had taken. He turned around. "Bridge?"

"Sky, I'm here," came a deep, disturbingly familiar voice from his right, and Sky turned slowly, almost apprehensively in that direction.

His jaw dropped.

He was seeing a replica of himself.

A replica so perfect, it might as well have been a clone.

His replica's pale face paled even further. "Uh oh," it said.

_W-what?_ "Who the hell are you?"

"S-Sky, it's me, Bridge," he – _it_ – said, attempting a smile, and failing miserably. "I – I think there's been some sort of… _accident_."

"Accident?" Sky felt his face flush with anger at his own confusion. "What do you mean?"

His… _clone_… sighed. "Take a look at yourself."

Sky raised an eyebrow, but did as he was told. He almost gagged at the sight.

Black leather gloves?

Green trim on his uniform?

Recipe for the 'Perfectly Buttery Toast' in his pocket?

Sky suddenly found it hard to breathe, as he realised what had happened. _Oh my God… Bridge and I… like Wootox… there's been an exchange…_

"Sky?" He looked up at the concerned voice, and wished he hadn't done so. Looking at his body – _from within somebody else's_ – was an experience surreal enough to make him nauseous. Even after Wootox.

Sky stepped forward, grabbing his replica's – _Bridge's_ – hand. "We need to get out of here, and figure this out." He cast a glare back at uncharacteristically surprised blue-grey eyes. "And when I say _figure this out_, I mean, _get back to normal_."

Bridge just nodded numbly as Sky shepherded him out of the room.

The forgotten D-Squad watched, mouths still agape.


	2. Unbalanced

**_A/N:_** Thanks so much for the overwhelming response! I wasn't expecting that. Really.

This story is set some time after SWAT II. Loved that arc.

_**2: Unbalanced**_

"Sky, I don't know why it's happened, I don't know how to fix it, don't complain to Commander Kruger, and whatever it is, I'm sure we can fix it if we work together, and – "

"Bridge." Sky gripped his friend's shoulders as they stood in their bedroom, the golden evening light filtering in from the window, casting shadows over the neat blue and green walls, morphing them into something different. _How symbolic_, Sky felt. "I haven't asked you anything yet."

Bridge grinned sheepishly. "Well, you know what they say about preparing beforehand."

"Right." Sky clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace the room. "So: let's review the situation at hand. Fact number one: we seem to have encountered an inexplicable exchange of souls."

"No kidding," Bridge muttered.

"Fact number two," Sky drove on, "This phenomenon is more or less similar to what happened between me and Wootox a few months ago." He stopped and glared into Bridge's eyes. "Fact number three: _you are going to fix what happened_."

"Relax, Sky, you're gonna give my body a heart attack." Bridge stroked his chin contemplatively. "Well, now. You and Wootox fixed your problem by connecting your brain wave patterns once again, right? We'll try that now. Remove my – your gloves."

Sky did as he was told, and looked at Bridge expectantly.

"Now give me your hand."

He felt a tingling, almost pleasant sensation as they clasped hands, like everything that was him and Bridge was flowing in an endless stream of consciousness into his mind. Bridge was looking at him apprehensively, almost ready to let go when needed. Sky blinked. "What's wrong?"

"You…" Bridge gulped. "You don't feel anything?"

"Feel?" Sky tilted his head. "I do… but it's… more like a surface phenomenon, you know? I can perceive your aura, but just barely."

"Oh." Bridge looked surprised, even disconcerted. "Oh, I see."

Sky's eyes narrowed. "Is there something you'd like to tell me, Bridge?"

"Oh, nothing. Really." Bridge cleared his throat. "Now, we touch foreheads. Remember, you've got to focus all of your mental energy into this, so concentrate really hard on getting your body back."

"You sure this will work?"

"_Focus_, Sky."

The two boys leaned forward, apprehensively, almost hesitatingly, each one filled with their own doubts about the whole process. Their foreheads finally touched, and immediately Sky could feel that stream again, but now it was not just a stream, but an ocean of scattered thoughts, a raging sea that roiled with mixed emotions, and where waves were crested with the widest spectrum of perception, and then the roar was filling his ears, seeping into his brain, pounding on the walls of his skull, bursting to get out…

"Yeargh!"

The two boys abruptly let go of each other, tumbling to the opposite ends of the room. The Blue Ranger was the first to get up, rubbing his head, which had slammed against a low-hanging bookshelf. "Ow… Hey, you okay?"

His friend picked himself from the floor, extricating himself from a pile of gadgetry that had fallen from Bridge's desk. "I _will_ be fine once you tell me this has worked."

Bridge stared at his hands.

His big, pale, glove-less hands.

"No." He sighed. "It didn't work."

Sky fell back against his bed, groaning. "How come? I went through all of that for nothing?"

"Went through all of what?"

"It felt like my head was going to burst." Sky raised himself to a sitting position, glaring at Bridge again. "I felt all these thoughts and feelings ricocheting inside my head… it was weird, painful, and overall a _very_ unpleasant experience."

"That's the problem, Sky." Bridge ran a hand through his hair nervously. "You're not supposed to feel like that during an exchange. Do you remember what happened back at the simulation room? The exchange was swift, and inconspicuous."

"So?"

"Both of us were focussed on the same thing when we experienced contact: we wanted to oust each other. I think both of us wanted to prove a point to the other. And that resulted in _this_." He gestured toward his body. "This time, however… there wasn't enough focus."

Sky's eyes flared. "What do you mean? Of _course_ I was focussing hard enough!"

Bridge put up his hands. "Relax, man, that wasn't what I was implying." He paused. "You're… just not _comfortable_ with my body, that's all. Maybe that's why you can't use my powers as well."

Sky sneered. "So I have to get _comfortable_ with your body, is that it?" The sneer morphed into laughter, bitter and disbelieving. "And how do I do that?"

Bridge smiled – a smile that was slow, amused, and seemed to Sky like a feral grin. Gods, did he really smile like _that_? "I don't know, Sky – I guess you just have to get used to being… _me_, before we can attempt an exchange again." The smile widened, until it looked positively hideous. "You see, using my powers requires a certain kind of… _temperament_."

Sky fought back the urge to gulp. "And how long will that take?"

Bridge shrugged. "I don't know. Days, weeks, months… Years, even."

_Years? In Bridge's body? I can bloody well write my will now!_ Sky's fists clenched as a barrage images of a horrifying future spent in Bridge's body flooded his head. "You sure there's no other way?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure." The feral, 'amused grin' curved his lips once again. "Come on, Sky, I'm sure getting used to being me can't be very difficult. Meanwhile I'll try to get used to your life, and…"

"… neither of us are going to say a word of this to anybody else." The glare was back again. "You got that?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure." Somehow, that didn't convince Sky at all. Bridge got up and strode toward the door. "So anyway, man, good luck in trying to be me."

_Good Luck in ruining my life_, Sky thought sourly, but didn't say anything. Bridge continued. "Oh, and you might want to talk to the D-Squad, all right? Convince them that nothing's wrong." He opened the door. "See you later, okay?" With that, he had left the room.

Sky watched him leave, feeling utterly, and inexplicably, _doomed_.

* * *

Bridge Carson, currently residing in fellow teammate and best friend Sky Tate's body, felt a certain kind of giddy elation as he strode down the corridors of the SPD Base. He supposed to himself that he ought to be feeling concerned, worried, maybe even _afraid _of the situation, but all he seemed to want just then was to show Sky how exactly his life ought to be lived. 

Who knew, maybe if it worked out, he could probably publish his very own manual for the "Way Life Ought To Be Lived".

He could probably even name it: "_Of Toast and Thoughts: Bridge Carson's Guide To Lifestyle_."

_Now, wouldn't that be fun?_

He entered the Ranger's Rec. Room, where Syd was still amazingly experimenting with an endless arsenal of nail polish, Z was on the couch, nearly asleep, and Jack was tinkering with one of his Delta Enforcers. All three of them looked up as he entered the room.

Jack set his weapon aside. "How did the training go, Sky?"

Bridge had to bite his lip to stop himself from correcting the Red Ranger. He would have to get used to that… "The… um, training? D-Squad? Oh, it was fine, I guess…" _Oh shit, that's not how Sky would say it_. _Gotta take this 'reforming' thing step by step_. He cleared his throat and dropped his voice a few octaves. "I mean, they still have… uh, a long way to go, but I think they'll make it in… um, due time." He wasn't able to stop a nervous laugh at the end.

Z narrowed her eyes. "Is something wrong, Sky?"

_Suspicious already?_ "No, of course not, Z." _Come on, Bridge, get into Sky mode: **now**!_ He put on his best stern face. "Shouldn't you be training or something now?"

Z yawned, and scowled. "Oh, come off it, Sky: you were training with me and Syd this morning, remember?"

"Really? Well, that's… that makes it okay, then, I guess." _I really should've come prepared for this better. _He sat down on a nearby couch heavily, suppressing a sigh. Maybe he ought to make himself as inconspicuous as possible until he had thought through the whole thing properly. And when you were Sky, the best way to do so was to…

He groped around on the side-table until he found it, thick, bound and inexplicably welcoming: the SPD Handbook. He opened it and tried to concentrate on the tiny print. _How in hell does Sky read this as a **pastime**?_

Next to him, Syd finally closed her make-up bag, and admired her pink-painted toes proudly. "There," she said. "I finally found the perfect shade."

Z rolled over and eyed her friend's toes sceptically. "Syd, this was the shade you were wearing _before_ you started the whole experiment."

Syd looked mildly surprised. "It was? Well, it just goes to show, doesn't it?" With that ambiguous statement, a grin, and a shake of her blonde head, she stood up. "Wow, all that experimenting has made me hungry." She strode barefoot to the food regenerator at the opposite end of the room. "Oh great, all this thing has is…" She squinted. "Toast, toast, and more toast." She placed her hands on her hips and swirled around. "All right, whose idea was it to allow Bridge to tinker with the regenerator again?"

Jack shrugged, grinning. "Dunno. You might as well live with it today before Boom fixes it."

"Or tries to fix it," Bridge muttered under his breath.

"Speaking of Bridge," Jack continued, "Just where _is_ he, Sky?"

Bridge was watching Syd press the buttons on the regenerator, mouth already watering.

"Sky?"

The handbook slipped from his numb hands as the heavenly smell of buttered toast permeated the room.

"Hey, Sky?"

Syd extracted the toast – and Bridge felt his heart flip over. It was perfect. A wonderful crisp brown, lathered with a generous amount of gloriously golden melted butter…

"Sky Tate, are you listening to me?"

It was The Perfectly Buttery Toast.

"SKY!"

With a huge _thud_, the Handbook slid off Bridge's lap, as he lunged for the toast in Syd's hand, unable to resist anymore. He ended up knocking over a very surprised Syd, and getting a nose-full of scented blonde hair, as the toast flipped into the air, and landed on a nearly-asleep Z's face.

Buttery side down.

A muffled scream rented the air as she tumbled off the couch, and lunged at Jack, who was the nearest to her. The Red Ranger, taken by surprise, was wrestled to the ground, and their brawl tumbled into the mess Bridge and Syd was trying to extricate themselves from, leading to a kicking, struggling mess of Rangers that rolled across the room before coming to a stop before the door.

It opened, and a dryly amused voice entered.

"Well, well, what's going on _here_?"

Abruptly, the four Rangers peeled away from each other, glaring. Sky, leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed, grinned. "Seems like you guys can behave like goofs even when I'm not here."

"Very funny, Bridge," Z snapped, grabbing a nearby napkin and wiping at her face. "Ugh, so much butter: I think I'm gonna puke."

"How did this happen?"

"Amazingly, it was Sky, this time," Syd said, glaring at the Blue Ranger. "For some inexplicably weird reason, he thought it funny to try and manhandle my toast out of my hands and fling it onto Z's face." A flicker of a smile crossed her face. "I mean, I don't really mind the 'flinging on Z's face' part, but…"

"I'm sorry," Bridge said distractedly, still staring wistfully, almost sadly, at the ruined toast lying on the floor. Jack sent a disbelieving look in his direction. Sky decided to step in before things got worse.

Thankfully, both of them were saved by the sirens that blazed through the building.

"_Rangers, Report to the Command Room immediately._"

"Well," Sky said, taking a deep breath, partially out of relief at the disaster averted, and partially out of apprehension at the disasters yet to come, "Duty calls."

Jack nodded, and he and the girls rushed out of the room, petty squabbles momentarily forgotten. Sky faced Bridge. "Just two minutes, and already you've almost managed to tip us off."

Bridge grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck. "Uh… sorry?"

Sky shook his head. "Guess we'll just have to wing it now, huh?"

Bridge smiled. "You got that right."

The two left the room, in the wake of blaring sirens and what seemed to them to be a sky full of gods laughing their heads off.


	3. Opposites

**_A/N:_** Thanks to the reviewers.

This thing is such fun to write, it's got to be a sin.

_**3: Opposites**_

In the bowels of a spaceship orbiting far above Earth's atmosphere, its rancid yellow tinted walls reverberating with unspeakable evil, where monsters that surely must have taken form from the deepest pits of hell dwelled; where an evil emperor that planned to spread his terror across millions of planets across the galaxy made his residence…

A little girl sat, playing with her dolls.

Mora, as the girl liked to call herself, for her real name was lost in the dark and empty recesses of her greedy mind, was not a little _girl_, per se, but something more. Not just Emperor Grumm's monster-provider, a helpless lackey, a psychic delinquent, but all of this, and something more.

Thus, she was not only a little girl playing with her dolls, but also something more.

She was a little girl who was presently infinitely _bored_.

Her mentor and keeper entered the dank room with his usual impatient strides, the loose bones from his grotesque armour clanking against his raw hide. "Well, Mora?"

She looked up at the being that had more than half of the galaxy trembling at their knees – or whatever substituted knees in their respective anatomies – with a calm, almost irritated expression on her face. "Yes, my Emperor?"

"What have you for me today?"

"Today?" Mora sighed, and leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm while pushing a tiny cup of tea toward Emperor Grumm in the process. "Monsters again? I'm getting bored of 'em."

Anger built around his frightful form as he pushed the tea – along with half a dozen dolls – away from the table, slamming his fist. "You dare disobey my orders, Mora?"

Mora pursed her lips. "Of course it is not like that, my Evil Exaltedness. I had merely meant that monsters have become increasingly predictable." She stood up, fixing him with a sickly sweet smile. "I have devised a better way to get rid of the Power Rangers – once and for all."

"And I thought that dialogue was exclusively mine," Grumm muttered.

Mora scowled. _And I thought he was incapable of sarcasm._

"Well, Mora? Let us hear of it."

"I have been observing their auras – particularly that of the Green one. There has been a sudden disturbance in their spiritual distributions, and I think we can take advantage of that – if we act _now_."

A long silence. Then:

"My Lord, that sounds a little vague."

The quiet, simpering voice nearly had Grumm tumbling off his seat, and Mora jumping three feet into the air. Grumm rose and swirled around to face his bat-like agent. "Broodwing!" The last semblances of surprise slipped off his face. "You deserve to have that water tank stripped off your despicable head for that!"

Broodwing bowed. "I'm sorry, my Lord. I had merely assumed that, for one with senses as highly developed as yours, my stealth would prove ineffective."

"Of – of course." Grumm cleared his throat while Mora snickered. "Getting to the point at issue, what were you trying to say, Broodwing?"

"Mora's… _plan_… my Lord." Somehow the agent's shrunken, nose-less face managed to put on an expression of delicate disapproval. "It seems to have very flimsy foundations. Spiritual distributions?"

"Ah – ah yes. Explain, Mora."

Mora's scowl was back on again. "I'm a _psychic_. 'Not having to explain' is _part_ of the job description."

Grumm levelled the tip of his staff at her, and it began to spark. "Forcing you to do so would be part of _my_ job description, wouldn't you say – _Morgana_?"

Mora gulped, and eased herself out of his range. "Now, now, my Evil Majesty, no need to go that extent yet." Grumm slowly raised his staff again, though his glowing red eyes were still fixed upon her. "Now. I'm pretty sure there's been something of a spiritual accident among the SPD Rangers, and they're almost certainly at their most vulnerable." A smirk curved her lips. "Those pathetic felines at SPD can deal with physical damage, but they don't have a _clue_ about the psychical part of it."

"Very interesting." Grumm stroked his bony chin. "But isn't the Green brat a psychic as well?"

Mora rolled her eyes. "Which is my point – he's the _only_ one."

"Yes." Grumm stood up with a decisive air. "Broodwing, I need you to send a mutant to Newtech City – immediately."

Broodwing took a step back. "M-My lord? You're just going to take her word for it?"

Once again, those red, strangely glassy eyes glowed with a feral fervour. "You've got a better plan?"

"N-no, but –"

"Then I would advise you to ask me no more questions, and just do what is asked of you, Broodwing."

Broodwing turned away. "Of course, my Exaltedness." He paused. "However, shall we discuss the financial aspects of the deal before I leave to do your bidding?"

Grumm raised his staff in annoyance. "You shall get your darned money in full measure! Now _go_!" Broodwing swept out of the room after another bow, while Grumm lowered his staff, breathing heavily.

Mora watched her mentor thoughtfully. "Shouldn't you just _tell_ him that you're nearly broke?"

"Quiet!"

* * *

Elizabeth 'Z' Delgado was furious.

Not only had she just _very_ unceremoniously been handed a face-full of grotesquely buttery toast, but had been forced to forsake a rare moment of rest to capture a mutant, that…

… didn't even seem to be _present_!

She clicked her tongue in annoyance, fingering her Delta Striker. "You sure we're in the right place, Jack?"

The Red Ranger shook his open morpher violently, as though he suspected that something was wrong with the gadget. "I'm pretty sure we're at the co-ordinates that Kat gave us." He looked up grimly. "There's no way a mutant _can't_ be here – unless Kat's made a mistake."

Syd eyed the warehouses surrounding the clearing they were standing in, biting her lip. "Kat almost _never_ makes a mistake. Besides, I had a look at the printouts of the readings she got. You _can't_ get a stronger mutant indicatory reading than the one she got."

Jack sighed deeply. "Well, I guess I'd better leave this to the experts." He turned around. "Yo, Bridge? Mind helping us out here?"

Bridge didn't respond – he was still gazing at the warehouses, frowning. Sky, however, looked up and elbowed the Green Ranger. "Bridge!"

Bridge jumped and yelped in pain. "What was _that_ for?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me? Aren't we on duty here?"

Bridge cocked his head, frowning. "So?"

Syd and Z sent wide-eyed looks of disbelief at each other, while Jack's eyebrows now rose so much that they seemed to be in danger of disappearing into his hairline. Sky's lips twitched, and there followed a moment of silence, before realisation dawned on Bridge's face.

"Oh," he said.

And stared back at Jack blankly.

Jack wondered if any nearby wall was strong enough to endure the brunt of his head smashing against it repeatedly. "You want me to say it so badly, Bridge? Huh? Do you? Well, here it is: oh, great and mighty Ranger Carson, would you _please_ exercise your _wondrous_ powers and inform us poor _hapless _mortals where the mutant is?"

A blink. Then: "Oh. Okay."

With a hesitation that inexplicably seemed to be born of confusion, Bridge removed his gloves. He waved one hand in front of his face, the movement followed by a tentative spark of green energy so quick that you could miss it in a blink, unlike the uniform, shimmering green aura that usually marked the exercise of Bridge's powers. The Green Ranger closed his eyes, brows pulled together in a frown.

After a few more moments of tense silence, Z snapped, "Well, Bridge?"

The Green Ranger opened his eyes, still frowning. "I – I'm not sure. I mean, I'm –" He broke off with a helpless sigh and looked to Sky with pleading eyes.

Sky, inexplicably, rose to his assistance.

"What I think Sk-Bridge is trying to say is that the mutant's aura is kind of… _elusive_ – if elusive is the word I want – and he can't detect it so easily. I mean, this happens sometimes, even to the best of us, you know? There're some shields Sk- I can't create, some off-days like a week ago where you found yourself stuck in the toilet wall, Jack, and –" The Blue Ranger stopped his rambling with conscious effort. "You get my point."

Jack Landors' face, at this point of the conversation, had turned a very interesting shade of maroon, and he seemed to be having intense difficulty in producing articulate speech. A situation that could have been rightly termed, as Bridge would reflect later, as the Red Ranger 'choking on the flames of his own anger'.

Z and Syd broke into uncontrolled giggles. Soon, the giggles had morphed into raucous laughter that seemed to provide them respiratory difficulties. Jack decided that he'd had enough.

"Enough!" The Red Ranger thundered. He swirled impressively toward his Green comrade, whose lips were twisting in the most interesting of ways, almost as if he were fighting back peals of laughter – and was losing the great battle. "Now, Bridge. Concentrate."

The smirk slipped off Bridge's face like melting butter. "O-Of course." Taking a deep breath, he bent down and attempted his usual handstand.

This chronicler says 'attempted', for that was what he did – but it was not a fruitful attempt. For the life of him, Bridge couldn't stay on his hands for more than two seconds in a row. After watching Bridge flail about and roll around as he desperately tried to stay on his hands for his trademark 'thinking pose', Jack finally lost his temper.

In impressive Red Ranger style.

He turned around, took a deep breath, and yelled at the surrounding warehouses: "Whatever bloody, filthy mutant you are, wherever you're hiding your hideous ass, come on out and fight me like a real monster! _Now_!!"

To the astonishment of the other four Rangers – and probably Jack himself – with a loud crack, the mutant materialised out of nowhere. The mutant was as typical as mutants could get: nine feet tall, scaly skin with dangerous-looking spikes, an assortment of spear-tipped tentacles writhing on his back and limbs, a gash of a mouth with fangs peeking out of the lipless opening and two bulbous glowing eyes.

And, of course, the inevitable: a Krybot summoning sphere held in one scaly palm.

"Ask, and you shall receive, Rangers," the mutant said, with a voice that sounded like the noises Bridge's toaster would sometimes make when overloaded, and squeezed the summoning sphere, leading to an outpouring of armed Krybots from nowhere.

Jack thrust his morpher forward and flipped it open. "Ready, guys?"

"Ready!" his team chorused.

"SPD – Emergency!"

Having thus miraculously frozen time temporarily as they leapt through pretty coloured lights and morphed into their respective Ranger suits, Jack and his team charged forward, Delta Strikers at the ready. Soon they were engaged in a vicious dogfight with the Krybots.

Jack desperately tried to keep an eye on what the mutant was doing through the multitudes of Krybots charging upon him. The monster just seemed to be standing there, observing them – for a change. A break from the monotony.

Well, _that_ couldn't be good…

He motioned toward Bridge, who was fighting closest to him. The Green Ranger caught his signal, and nodded. Kicking away some more Krybots, both of them raised their arms into the air. "SWAT mode!"

Having thus affixed their Ranger suits with the additional SWAT accessories, Bridge and Jack pulled out the big cannon guns (**1**) and fired away at the Krybots, making a beeline for the mutant. The mutant's writhing tentacles shot out in response, and effectively pushed away Bridge, while Jack leapt into the air, firing all the while.

The laser beams (as usual) seemed to have no more effect than partially melting some parts of the mutant's armour and the lipless mouth lifted in a monstrous facsimile of a smirk. Jack landed heavily, while Bridge leapt to his feet beside his leader. "What do you want?" Jack growled from behind his helmeted mask. "What plans does Grumm have now?"

The mutant laughed – a deep, grating, rumbling laugh. "I do not know about _that_, Red Ranger. All I know is that I have been sent here to have some fun, and that's exactly what I'm going to do." With that, the tentacles shot forth once again.

Bridge and Jack avoided them this time, and there ensued an intense fight between the mutant and the SWAT-bedecked Green and Red Rangers. Finally, the mutant, having been cornered, whipped out a gadget that had both Bridge and Jack gasping, and the other Rangers freeze in mid-fight.

"That looks like a bomb activator," Sky whispered.

A maniacal laugh bubbled from the mutant's mouth. "Goodbye forever, Rangers!" With that, the tentacle moved to hit the activation button.

Bridge and Jack sprinted toward the others. "Sky!" Jack yelled. "Shield! NOW!!"

Sky pushed away one last Krybot before nodding and demorphing. On his face was frozen a visible look of intense – and uncharacteristic – panic, as he knelt down, and the other Rangers gathered behind him. A faltering blue aura emanated from his fingertips as he frantically waved his hands before him.

The tentacle hit the button.

The Rangers cringed.

Sky whimpered, and waved his hands harder.

Jack decided to forgive everybody who had wronged him in life, right from Kruger and Sky to probably even that bully who had made his life hell in kindergarten.

The world around them exploded in a spectacular fusion of blazing orange and red.

It took some time for the blaze to settle down, and the thick smoke to disperse. Syd's voice floated through the smog.

"I can't believe it."

Jack opened his eyes with some difficulty and gazed around them, open-mouthed. He decided that he had to agree with the Pink Ranger.

They had survived.

A blue, shimmering shield surrounded them, emanating from the hands of a Sky petrified in intense concentration, eyes squeezed closed. Finally, he let out a deep breath and dropped the shield, looking ready to collapse to the ground in relief and exhaustion. The others got up slowly.

"Wow," Z said, shaking her helmeted head in awe. "For a moment there, Sky, I thought you were not going to be able to put that up in time."

He shot her a strained smile, seeming unable to say a word.

Bridge shook his head abruptly, gazing at the Blue Ranger with something akin to surprise, relief, and – inexplicably – confusion, and put a heavy hand on Jack's shoulder. "Well, then, Jack, let's not waste any more time and proceed to contain the criminal." Sky still seemed unable to rise from his position.

Jack couldn't stand the weirdness of it anymore.

"I swear," he said tiredly, with a world-weary shake of the head that would've seemed more in place on Commander Kruger, "you two will be the death of me."

He would've been surprised if he had known that Sky and Bridge agreed with him wholeheartedly.

* * *

**_A/N_**: All I can say at this point is… hahaha. I've always wanted to embarrass Jack…

**(1)** – Just what _are_ those "big cannon SWAT guns" called, by the way? I'm sure they have some special name that has currently completely escaped my porous memory. I'd be much obliged if someone could inform me of the same, so that I can make the correction at the earliest.


	4. Discovery

**_A/N:_** Thanks for the reviews, and the clarifications. Much obliged.

I see there's some confusion over the whole 'recognising Bridge and Sky' matter. I'm afraid that, for those with that complaint, this chapter would prove even more confusing. I can, however, tell you this: whenever the story's being told from Bridge or Sky's PoV, 'Bridge' would mean the real Bridge in Sky's body and vice-versa. If it's from anybody else's point of view, 'Bridge' would mean Sky in Bridge's body and so forth.

And about the 'romance'. Yes, it's Sky/Z, as in the _actual_ Sky (whether he's residing in Bridge's body or not) with Z, and the same goes for Bridge/Syd. I've been quite smitten with these pairings lately, and feel they're rather unfairly under-represented on this site. So there you go.

_**4: Discovery**_

Sky Tate pushed his room's code into the console next to his bedroom's door with something that would approximate a weary hopelessness – he didn't think he could bear _another day_, leave alone weeks, in his present situation. Seeing Bridge hunched upon opening the door, great shoulders drawn together, looking the very picture of exhaustion and dejection in the last fading rays of sunlight filtering in through the window, did nothing to lift his spirits.

Bridge looked up as he came in, blue-grey eyes confused and exhausted. "Hey, Sky."

"Hello, Bridge." He walked in and sat heavily on his bed. "You know, I'm pretty sure Commander Kruger suspected something was wrong during our report."

Bridge raised a blond eyebrow. "You're worrying about the Commander? I'm pretty sure that Jack _is_ convinced that something is wrong with us." He closed his eyes. "We can't go on like this, Sky. We need to tell the others. Spill the beans. Let the cat out of the bag. Throw light on the situation. And –"

"I get your point, Bridge," Sky interrupted quickly. "But why now? We can wait for some more time, right? I mean, today's situation wasn't _all_ that bad. After the whole bomb fiasco, we _did_ manage to successfully capture the mutant." He smiled as he remembered Jack's expression upon 'Sky's' revelation. "And there were certain other… _improvements_, as well."

"Sky." Bridge's voice was suddenly more agitated. "Do you _know_ – have any _idea_ – how difficult it was for me to get that shield up back there? It required an exercise of mental energy in a way that I've never, _ever_ experienced before. And you could barely use my powers as well. Hell, you couldn't even maintain my handstand."

Sky frowned, and leaned forward. "Yeah, I was wondering about that. It's not like performing handstands was ever difficult for me. Why was it a different story back in those warehouses?"

"Like I said before, Sky, being me requires a certain type of temperament. I don't do the handstand just for laughs, you know." He eyed his friend wryly. "It really _does_ help me think."

"Oh." Sky shifted his gaze to the window and sighed heavily. "I… I don't know, Bridge."

Bridge raised an eyebrow. The whole 'I'm-sceptical-because-you're-obviously-inferior-to-me' look was a lot easier to perform – almost a reflex – now that he was Sky. "Don't know what?"

"I don't know what to do." He shook his head, strands of brown tousled hair hanging over his eyes. "I can't seem to decide what's best for us at this stage – do we tell Commander Kruger and the others and risk a public embarrassment and suspension for endangerment of the populace with misuse of our genetic powers – as is stated in the SPD Handbook, Section 24, Article 16 – or do we continue like this and destroy ourselves in the process?" He gave a hollow, bitter laugh as Bridge watched him silently. "Some leader I am, huh? No wonder Commander Kruger appointed Jack as Red Ranger."

Bridge scratched the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. Finally: "You can't handle every situation there is, Sky. You can't be perfect."

"No, but striving toward perfection is what leads to excellence."

Bridge didn't respond, unwilling to get into an argument he knew he couldn't win.

A few more minutes of tense, stifling silence.

Then:

A knock on the metal door sounded, its echoes resounding within the bedroom, causing both Bridge and Sky to jump a few feet into the air. "Uh… uhm, who is it?" Bridge stammered out.

"It's me, Z," a muffled voice sounded. "And Syd."

"Oh… Oh. I see. Z. Z and Syd. The girls. Uh… yeah. Oh." Bridge laughed nervously.

Sky rolled his eyes. "Come on in."

The doors slid open, and Z entered, her movements almost tentative. "Hey guys," she said. "I was hoping I could talk to you, Sky." She glanced meaningfully at the Green Ranger. "Alone."

Both men nodded, but neither made a move. Z frowned in confusion.

Bridge cleared his throat.

Sky blinked, as if he had just snapped out of a trance. "Oh. Oh, okay, then." He smiled nervously and scratched the back of his neck. It seemed so much easier to do in Bridge's body… and more natural, thankfully. He got up and moved toward the door. "I'll be going then."

Z smiled at him. "Syd's waiting for you outside."

"Yeah." Trying valiantly to repress a gulp, he stroked the console beside the doors, causing them to open. As he stepped outside to face a smiling Syd, and the doors slid closed behind him, he couldn't help but feel tense at this unexpected request for conversation. The girls must have discovered it. They must've found out about their little secret. How, when, where – he didn't know. But they must have figured it out.

He just _knew_ it.

* * *

Sydney Drew found herself in a remarkable emotional state as Bridge stepped out of the room.

Obviously curiosity and a vague uneasiness occupied the forefront of her consciousness – considering the reasons she had come here to talk to Bridge in the first place – but there was also some lingering guilt, and most curiously, excitement. Excitement over what? Having Bridge alone? With her?

She pondered over that thought for an infinite moment, before discarding it with a laugh.

Excited over talking to Bridge? Sydney Drew?

How perfectly ludicrous.

She plastered a bright smile on her face, and it turned out to be pretty good plaster, for the smile did not melt even in the light of her concern for Bridge's unusually pale and worried countenance. He seemed to be tightly wound with a tension that was almost tangible – she fancied he would start vibrating violently if she so much as touched him.

There was definitely something afoot.

"Hi, Bridge," she said, deliberately overdoing the brightness in her voice, causing Bridge to tense up even more. "H-Hi Syd," he said guardedly. "What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

Syd smirked inwardly. He was definitely on the backfoot. It was time to press her advantage. "Why don't we go on a walk and discuss it, hm?"

"Surely there's no need –"

She made her eyes large, pouting at him. "Come _on_, Bridge. Please?"

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before finally sighing and giving in. "Okay."

She placed a hand on his – at which he really _did_ wince, but gave no further voice in protest. They started to walk down the corridor.

"So," Syd started after a couple of moments. "Been doing anything interesting lately?"

"Uhm, what? Interesting? No, not really."

"That's a pity." She stopped suddenly, turning to face a startled Bridge. "You know, Bridge…" she started quietly, huskily, eyes half-hooded, noticing with some hidden amusement that he was starting to sweat very badly.

Meanwhile, within Bridge's body, Sky was having, in crude terms, the mother of all panic attacks. He hadn't been aware of Bridge and Syd having a relationship that was anything more than innocent friendship. Well, now. He would just have to play along. Wherever that 'along' took him… and the real Bridge.

Syd continued, strangely enjoying the effect she was having on Bridge. "I've been very concerned about you lately." She laid a gentle hand on his chest. "You've not been yourself."

It had seemed impossible, but Bridge looked even tenser than before. "Not been myself?" Bridge made a high-pitched, nervous sound that could only be vaguely defined as laughter. "W-What do you mean? Of course I've been myself." Gently, almost unobtrusively, he pulled her hand away from his chest. "Just been good old Bridge Carson, and nothing else."

A bright flush coloured Syd's cheeks as Bridge's fingers closed over her hand. She scolded herself for being so vulnerable to such a small gesture – and from Bridge Carson, of all people. She needed to concentrate on the task at hand – which was uncloaking Bridge's mysterious secret. She decided to play her trump card.

"Oh, really?" She batted her eyelashes at him, and removed her hand from his in a shy gesture. "That's wonderful, then – you're well enough to take me on a date tomorrow like you promised."

Sky wished that a legion of Krybots – hell, even Grumm himself – would start attacking Newtech city right at that moment – he felt he was safer fighting a hundred Krybots by himself in a wheelchair and no weapons than the position he found himself in at the moment. So Syd and Bridge were _dating_? And Bridge had told him nothing about it? That was surprising, considering Bridge's nature.

But then again, upon further thought, it made sense to Sky that Bridge had said nothing to him. According to Section 12, Article 2 of the SPD Handbook – that section which dealt with interpersonal relationships of the cadets – anything that went beyond mere camaraderie between two cadets was strictly prohibited during times of duty – particularly Rangers, for they were almost constantly on duty. Sky would've definitely had something to say against Bridge and Syd's relationship, and it was obvious that Bridge hadn't wanted the rule-conscious Blue Ranger's interference in his romance.

He was, at present, caught in quite a conundrum. Was he to respect the institution he had worked so hard to come up in and reveal his identity, thereby stopping this blatant example of rule-breaking, or was he to respect his friendship to Bridge – one of the very few people in SPD who had not been veered away by his uptight attitude, and who had become – willingly or unwillingly – his sole confidant and a perfect foil for his over-zealousness? His best friend?

It seemed that he had been doing nothing but flounder over decisions of late.

The result of all of this introspection flowed out in six simple words from his mouth. "Sure, Syd. Tomorrow. Like I promised."

Syd smirked triumphantly. _Gotcha. _She placed her hands on his shoulders and slammed him against the corridor wall, leaning into his startled face. "Whoever you are, I know you're not Bridge, so spill the beans." She watched pseudo-Bridge gulp with no small amount of triumph. "I had _thought_ that Bridge and Sky were acting strange lately. Z's going to uncover your accomplice – you've got nowhere to hide."

The impostor's eyes shifted nervously before he finally sighed and seemed to give in. "I guess the secret's out," he murmured, with something that inexplicably resembled relief in his tone. He looked into her eyes. "I'll tell you everything, Syd."

Something about the warm sincerity in his tone, that casual familiarity, like he had known her all his life, made Syd blink and let go of him. He stood straight and dusted his green and grey jacket. "Go on, then," she said. "Tell all."

He told her.

* * *

Z Delgado studied her subject with disguised interest.

Within the few minutes she had made her appearance in his room, Sky had fidgeted with his bed sheet, knocked over his alarm clock eleven times before placing it somewhere with an annoyed grunt where his elbows – suddenly prone to frequent nervous jerks – couldn't touch it; had opened his mouth, tried to say something, then closed it, at least five times, and currently seemed to very interested in studying the contours of the carpeted floor.

Well, then. It looked like she would have to start proceedings.

"Sky," she said, drawing her voice out into a thoughtful drawl, "I was thinking about what happened today. You know, how you couldn't get that shield up quickly."

"Oh?" He gulped visibly, and Z found herself wanting to laugh. Sure, she had always wanted Sky to loosen up a bit more, but this was getting too much…

_Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a second._ Z's thought process came to a screeching halt. Since when had she wanted the uptight Blue Ranger to 'loosen up' with her? It had to be some sort of electromagnetic wave-like thingamajig that was screwing up their minds recently…

Sky spoke up, voice wavering ever so slightly, as if he wanted to be anywhere except his current position. "Like I said back at the warehouses, everybody has an off day. I mean," and he laughed, a light, nervous sound, "nobody's perfect, you know."

Z smirked, and leaned forward, her golden 'Z' pendant dangling threateningly in front of her chest. "But Sky, isn't _striving_ toward perfection that which leads to excellence?"

Beads of perspiration broke out on Sky's sloping forehead. "Yes, of course, you're absolutely right – I'm glad you remember all that I say – but you see, even in the pursuit of excellence there are obstacles to be overcome. Take, for instance," Sky now seemed to be getting into some sort of an element, "the making of the Perfectly Buttery toast. For weeks, did I – I mean, Bridge – work on the program to be inputted into the regenerator, but it was only recently – and at a most unfortunate time – did it begin to work. So, Z, I hope you're starting to realise that –"

"What I'm starting to _realise_," Z interrupted, her voice hard, "is that you and Bridge have been acting strange lately." Her eyes narrowed. "Really strange."

Sky leaned back, and in his eyes was now an expression of utmost horror. "W-what do you mean?"

She got up, filled with an inexplicable anger at this… this _facsimile_, this impostor, this parasite who looked so much like the Sky Tate she had come to get used to these past few months. "You. You and your so-called Bridge. You're not real. You're not _them_. Syd is working on uncovering your accomplice, after which both of you will tell us where the real Sky and Bridge are, and then you two will be closeted in containment cards, along with the rest of the scum of the galaxy."

Sky's jaw dropped. "No, Z, _relax_! I can explain! You don't have to go to unnecessary extremes and –"

"Unnecessary?" Z reached into the holster attached to her belt. "Hardly."

Sky gulped as he felt the cold barrel of a pistol press against his forehead.

In a sudden movement, the doors slid open and Syd came rushing in, panting breathlessly, Bridge hot on her heels. "Wait, Z! Don't –" Z, startled, jerked the hand holding the laser pistol.

A gunshot and a terrible scream resounded within the confines of the room.


	5. Abduction

**_A/N:_** I think you guys have hung there long enough. ((throws rope over cliff)) Here you go.

Hope you enjoy.

And, oh, belated New Year wishes to everyone.

_**5: Abduction**_

"This is _ridiculous_."

Jack Landors looked across the silent Command Room at a very uncomfortable looking Sky and Bridge, standing next to each other, hands clasped behind their backs, and heads guiltily bowed. Syd and Z stood at his either side, the Yellow Ranger looking as if she desperately wanted to be somewhere else, while the Commander and Kat Manx stood behind them, expressions unreadable. Boom stood in a corner, watching the proceedings with great interest.

Sky sighed. "I wish you'd stop saying that."

Jack raised an eyebrow – he had all together been doing too much raising eyebrows lately – and spoke. "And this – cadets just _exchanging_ bodies, and informing _no-one_ about it – is so common an occurrence that I should say nothing about it, Br- I mean, Sky?" He threw his hands up. "Hell, confusion is the least of our troubles! You _saw_ what nearly _happened_ there…"

Bridge winced, allowing a convulsive shudder to pass through Sky's frame. Sky frowned, and Z was silently shaking her head, still apparently highly uncomfortable.

The Commander finally broke his silence. "Cadet Landors is right. You ought to have informed someone of the situation before it had complicated."

"Yeah," Syd cut in, unable to restrain herself, "I mean, if it hadn't been for Bridge's reflexes, Sky wouldn't be here now!" She paused. "I mean, Sky's _body_ wouldn't be here now, so Bridge would be a body without a soul and Sky would be a soul without a body, and…" Her monologue came to a screeching halt as she saw the entire Command Room staring at her. "What?"

Jack shook his head. "Just wondering if Bridge managed to put a part of his soul in _you_ as well."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Z murmured, looking away.

Bridge finally spoke up, looking wounded. "Hey, I think what she said made perfect sense…"

"You _would_…"

"I just _so_ did _not_ talk like Bridge, you know…!"

"Syd, this is not about you and Bridge, this is –"

"Well, _Jack_, you did start it…"

"Hah, look, next on her imitation list is a five year old; how sweet…"

"Z, that's not funny…"

"_Silence_, cadets!" Commander Kruger's booming voice effectively silenced the bickering Rangers. "This is no time to argue." He clasped his hands – or paws, if you will – behind his back and paced to stand in between them. "I have to confess that I am severely disappointed with your actions today. After having shown so much progress in the training with Sergeant Silverback, it seems to me that you've taken two steps backward for that one improvement."

Sky winced at the harsh words, making Bridge's face scrunch up into an uncharacteristically repenting expression. Kat pursed her lips.

"Cadet Landors, as the team leader, you must have been more observant of changes in your teammates' behaviour, and inquired into the matter in a sensible manner, thereby checking any reckless actions – actions that could result in disastrous consequences – from your team."

Jack's eyes widened in indignation. "B-But I –"

The Commander ignored him, ploughing on relentlessly. "Cadet Tate, as I am sure you're perfectly aware, it was your duty to report the accident to Jack – and if not to the Red Ranger, at least either to me or Dr. Manx, who would've taken more prudent actions toward a solution. Instead, you tried to take matters into your own hands, and I hope you realise the kind of a catastrophe your rash actions almost resulted in."

Sky nodded slowly, head bowed down, hands trembling.

"And Cadet Carson," the Commander continued, swivelling to face Bridge, who immediately blanched and took a step back, "as much as I thank the Lords for those reflexes of yours that allowed you to miss the beam, a little bit of thinking on your part would have prevented such a situation. Even if your second-in-command does not, you must try and think the sensible way out." The Commander suddenly sighed. "Though that's asking too much out of you, I suppose."

"Perhaps, sir," Bridge replied sincerely.

The Commander nodded and turned to face the Yellow Ranger. "Cadet Delgado, note that your presumptuousness in trying to investigate your suspicions without informing any higher authority about it is not appreciated." For a moment she thought the Sirian's eyes twinkled, but the stare was as stony as ever. "You might also want to work on some… less _violent_ interrogative skills."

Z's gaze shifted to the floor. She had never felt quite so small in her life. "Yes, Commander," she mumbled.

"And finally, Cadet Drew." The Pink Ranger cocked her head, almost as if curious as to on what basis he was going to reprimand her. "Helping another Cadet who is so obviously performing a mistake is not what I expect from responsible SPD Cadets. Particularly Rangers."

"I'm sorry," Syd said softly, adding "Commander," almost as an afterthought.

"But we _will_ learn from this, Commander," Jack said earnestly, stepping forward. "You will not be disappointed again."

Kruger hid a smile. Cadet Landors had definitely matured from being the reluctant-but-ridiculously-talented-newcomer to a more mature and responsible leader. "I hope so, Landors – not just for your safety's sake, but for the whole of Earth's." He turned to Sky and Bridge. "I suppose you two have weighed your options regarding this issue?"

Sky seemed uncharacteristically unresponsive, allowing Bridge to take charge. Considering the seriousness of the situation, he explained the events of the day without diverting too much from the topic at hand – there was a point where he wanted to make a detailed and incisive comment on the deteriorating quality of the lunches coming from the regenerator – but thankfully decided to forego that urge. "And so lies the situation," Bridge concluded. "We _did_ try changing back into our original bodies, but… we weren't… weren't ready for that."

Kat folded her arms. "And how long will it take for you to get 'ready'?"

Bridge shrugged. "That depends… on a lot of things. It's kinda complicated."

"I see." Kruger nodded. "You had better get this sorted out as soon as possible – until then, both of you are relieved from active Ranger status, and will be called in only in case of an emergency. We do not need more confusion at this stage of the war against Grumm." Sky seemed to slump even more. "However, you are expected to do your normal duties as SPD cadets, and that includes a night city patrol in half-an hour." The dog-like Commander's lips twitched. "Good luck to all of you. You are now dismissed."

The command centre's doors slid open, and the five cadets trooped out, after having given the official SPD salute. Boom walked forward to stand beside Kat and Kruger. "Wow," he said, after a few moments of silence. "That was… intense."

To his complete and unadulterated surprise, Commander Kruger threw his Sirian head back, and gave what was literally a howl of laughter – the sound made Boom jump a couple of feet into the air. Kat's eyebrows shot up, and both of them stared, dumbstruck, at their leader, who was currently leaning over the hologram table, chuckling uncontrollably.

Finally, he seemed to gain some semblance of control over himself. Standing straight, he cleared his throat, and lightly brushed the front of his uniform. "I haven't had that good a laugh for a long, long time – must remember to thank those two when this mess is over." With an amused gaze sent in his startled sub-ordinates' direction, he swept out of the room.

Silence.

Finally, Boom spoke.

"I don't think I'm ever going to look at this institution the same way again."

Kat merely smiled.

* * *

It is a unanimous conclusion of psychologists all over the galaxy, that criminal mutants have the most simple, yet the most remarkable personas in the universe.

Take, for instance, the case of the mutant lurking in the shabbier outskirts of Newtech city, waiting for a particular SPD cadet to come by his way.

Known in criminal circles by the none-too-flattering nickname of 'Doofus', the mutant had been approached a few hours ago by Broodwing, with a special assignment. It was every criminal's dream to work one day under Emperor Grumm, soon-to-be lord of the galaxy, and it was with boundless surprise and enthusiasm that Doofus responded to Broodwing's offer. It would invariably end up with him closeted in a containment card, no doubt, but this was a destiny that most mutants accepted with an almost martyr-like bravery. They would have to go through the whole 'fighting-Rangers-and-their-zords-and-getting-defeated' sequence someday or the other anyway, and what better way to do it than in the blaze of criminal glory that involvement with Emperor Grumm carried?

At least, that had been his thinking, until Broodwing had informed him of his _real_ intentions.

Alien hormones worked overtime as he remembered the meeting.

"_This time is different_," the bat-like agent had said, tiny eyes gleaming eerily through the transparent headgear. "_This plan, this assignment I have for you, if done right, might be the end of SPD forever. And then, there will be no roadblocks in the Emperor's plans to galactic domination_." Somehow, the lipless face seemed to twist in a strange facsimile of a smile. "_And you will forever be remembered as the hero who made it possible_."

That had been all the incentive he needed to accept the mission. Broodwing had then gone on some convoluted explanation of some weakness in the SPD ranks – about souls and bodies, greens and blues, exchanges and transmissions. He hadn't understood any of the monologue, but he remembered one thing very clearly, the command given at the very end of the explanation:

"_Capture the Blue Ranger, who will be in the Green Ranger's body_."

Of course.

Despite all the excitement he felt, he still couldn't understand why Broodwing had approached _him_, of all mutants, with such an important assignment. Grumm had had people as talented as Mirloc, as versatile as Slate, as deadly as Devastation, working under him before, and he wanted to choose _him_, even in light of their combined failures?

After all, it was no accident that he had been nicknamed 'Doofus'. Having taken to crime on his home planet, after having his efforts at making an honest living mount to nothing, he had discovered bad luck had accompanied him there as well. After having served several small jail sentences on his planet for various petty thefts, he had transferred to Earth, hoping for better luck in his pursuits. And so far, that wish had not been fulfilled.

Besides, there were rumours going around that Broodwing planned to leave Emperor Grumm very soon, and this might be his way of a suitable payback to the tyrannical lord. Maybe he _wanted_ the mission to fail. Maybe he had chosen Doofus for that very reason. Maybe…

Doofus shook his triangular head abruptly – a typical human gesture that he found really helped in getting his thoughts back into focus. He needed to concentrate on the mission at hand.

What was it again?

Ah… ah, yes. _Capture the Blue Ranger_.

Of course.

* * *

The Rangers' Rec. Room was occupied by a silence so profound, it was deafening.

Sky sat slumped on the couch, back arched forward, head bowed, elbows on thighs. The other four Rangers stood around the couch, staring at him, still trying to digest all that had happened in the past twelve hours.

Bridge, not surprisingly, was the first to break the silence.

"The night city patrol starts in a couple of minutes."

Sky didn't respond.

"One of us should get going, you know."

There was still no response from the silent Ranger.

Jack sighed and shook his head, clicking his tongue in irritation. "Look, just stop moping in self-pity and get back to work, okay? This isn't like you."

"Yeah," Sky said slowly, his voice hollow, bitter, "This isn't like me."

Z rolled her eyes. "So you made a mistake and got scolded for it, and so did we. Big deal. This kind of thing's happened before and you came out of it pretty okay, right?" She reached out and shook him. "Right?"

His only response was to slump even more.

Jack threw his hands up in exasperation, while Z shook her head and Syd pursed her lips. Bridge strode across the room and grabbed the keys to the Blue Ranger's patrol cycle. "I'm going," he said, stroking the door panel, "I'll see you guys tomorrow morning."

The others nodded as he stepped out and the doors closed behind him.

He took the elevator to the garage level, leaning against its gleaming titanium-chrome alloyed walls, thinking. _Sky's taking this whole situation real hard._ The Commander's opinion obviously meant a lot to him, but such an adverse reaction meant an utter loss of the confidence and determination that had always been Sky's trademark characteristics. Even without the full extent of his psychic powers, Bridge could perceive Sky's insecurities, the creeping doubts about his own ability to lead and perform – doubts that had festered ever since Jack and Z's coming and the former's appointment as Red Ranger – coming up into sharp focus once again.

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. Bridge stepped out and mounted the unfamiliar Blue Patrol cycle, driving the keys into ignition. He cleared his throat and called out, "Open garage doors."

The machine voice resounded back almost immediately. "_Voice recognition confirmed. Cadet Schuyler Tate, B-Squad. Opening doors._" The garage doors slid open, and Bridge rode out into the night.

The patrol turned out to be pretty uneventful, as Newtech city's streets were mostly either entirely peaceful or deserted that night. There were a couple of nightclubs that he passed by where the party was starting to get rowdy, but the local police seemed to be able to handle it. Satisfied that there was nothing that was a potential threat to the Earth's security in the main city, Bridge began to drive towards the outskirts and suburbs, fully intending to wrap the patrol up quickly so that he could get back to SPD headquarters, where he could get to bed, and peacefully try to figure out a solution to his problem.

It seemed, however, that he was not to avail of that luxury.

Cruising down one of the shabbier side streets, he was met with sudden laser-fire from the darkness. The laser pellets slammed right through the bike's tyres, causing it to swerve and skid, and Bridge to lose his balance and topple over, falling to the road with considerable force, knocking all the breath out of his lungs. _Damn, I was too distracted!_ The bike completed its wild slide and slammed into a nearby wall, the punctured tyres spinning crazily in the air as it toppled over. _And Sky's gonna **kill** me for doing that to his Patrol Cycle_.

Struggling to regain his breath and scramble to his feet, Bridge didn't notice a triangular-headed alien approaching him from behind, hefting a large steel rod. An alien who couldn't believe his sudden luck, an alien who was about to achieve what Grumm had been trying to do for months.

A sudden, sharp, unbearable pain shot through Bridge's head, a flash of pure white agony, before…

Everything went black.


	6. Desperation

**_A/N:_** So my eleventh grade final exams are finally over, which means I can once more concentrate on my most favourite Fanfic project. I had unbelievable fun writing this chapter – which would explain why it's slightly longer than usual – and I hope you will enjoy it as much. Thanks to those who've reviewed so far.

_**6: Desperation**_

Morning dawned upon Newtech city.

Morning sunlight gently illumined SPD headquarters, reflecting off its eleven thousand-odd glass windows, politely peeking into its training rooms, recreation centres, conference rooms, the Command Room, and finally, the cadets' personal quarters. It was exceptionally hesitant in entering one particular room, where a particular cadet who had recently undergone an exchange of bodies with his best friend, was in the throes of an extremely restless sleep.

But enter it did, accompanied by the heralding shriek of the alarm clock, and Sky Tate was awake.

Startled, he rolled off his bed, causing his bed covers to roll with him and land on him in a heap.

His _green_ bed covers.

_Green, green, green,_ Sky thought despairingly, as he remembered the events of the previous day. _Why does everything around me have to be so damn colour-coded?_

He looked to his right, to see his neatly made – _blue_ – bed lying bare and empty and was genuinely surprised. Obviously Bridge must have come back late the previous night, for Sky hadn't found sleep until some time after midnight, and it seemed so uncharacteristic of him to have woken up so early – _and_ to have made his bed so neatly. In fact, it was something Sky would usually do, in order to get in an hour of an early morning brisk jog before the day's training and Ranger duties.

The thought infused into Sky a sort of panicked determination. _He may have taken my body, but he sure as hell is **not** going to take my identity! _He quickly rose to his feet and set about preparing himself for the rest of the day.

Another day.

Another –

– day.

More than thirty-six thousand kilometres above Newtech city, a certain Troobian emperor was not thinking along the same lines.

* * *

Sky Tate entered the Command Room, to be greeted by the unmistakable tension of impending trouble.

Z, Syd and Jack stood before the Commander, tight frowns on their faces. Kat continued to tap away at a nearby monitor, and the anxiety on her usually placid face was more than enough to tell Sky that something had gone very, very wrong. None of them seemed to mind that he was late – in fact, the Commander actually seemed relieved.

"Well, so you're here," the Commander said, even before Sky could give the customary SPD salute. "That saves us the trouble of sending out a search party for you, as well."

Sky frowned. "Sir?"

"Bridge is missing," Jack said bluntly. "He never came back from his patrol last night."

For some reason Sky initially felt some relief – _so there was no transfer of characteristics_ – before his frown deepened. "But why would he –"

He was interrupted by Kat, who had finally turned her face from the monitor. "I think I may have found a clue."

All activity in the Command Room seemed to come to a standstill as all attention turned on her.

"His patrol cycle – or rather, the Blue Ranger's patrol cycle that he used last night – was found in Sector 48A. One of the suburbs." She pursed her lips. "It's apparently in a pretty bad condition, which implies that there might have been a fight. Plus, his morpher was found close by as well."

Jack took a deep breath. "Right. Transmit the exact co-ordinates to our morphers, and we'll be on our way."

Kat nodded. "On it. Commander?"

"Yes, yes, proceed as fast as you can," Commander Kruger said. "You too, Sky."

"Yes sir!" With the official SPD salute, the four Rangers were on their way.

In what seemed to Sky a blur of traversing through familiar places, speeding down roads on the unfamiliar Green Ranger patrol cycle while his mind wandered elsewhere, they were there. The police had cordoned off the area from curious passers-by, and retreated deferentially upon the arrival of the SPD rangers.

Jack bent down to examine the fallen cycle. "The wheels have been blasted through by laser fire. Yup, there's been a fight, all right. A big one, by the look of it."

"Bridge may not be a role model as far as following the rules is concerned," Syd said, "but at least he _is_ more competent at fighting than _that_."

Z nodded. "You're right. This had to have been an ambush." Her brows pulled together in a frown. "He might have even been kidnapped, or something."

The speculation seemed to make Syd restless. "Oh, if they're going to ask for ransom or something, I'm sure I can convince my Dad into writing a cheque, and…"

Jack gave a disbelieving snort. "For Pete's sake, Syd, we're supposed to be SPD! The _police_! And so is Bridge, in case you've forgotten."

"Yeah, but even so…"

"I think you guys are forgetting something even more important here," Sky interrupted quietly. "I am, for all intents and purposes now, Bridge." He spread his hands. His gloved hands. "I can use his powers to find out what happened here."

Syd looked at him doubtfully. "Are you sure about that, Br – Sky? I mean, you were barely able to use his powers yesterday."

"Yeah, and you weren't the most confident of people last night – if I remember correctly," Jack added, folding his arms over his chest.

Z, surprisingly, moved to his defence. "Well, Bridge was able to use Sky's powers yesterday, so why not give Sky another chance? Besides, if the big man himself is offering to help, I don't think we should pass up the opportunity." She lowered her voice, so that only Sky could hear. "You'd better get those powers working this time, otherwise I'd look _real_ stupid defending you."

Sky, inexplicably, found himself grinning. "Don't worry," he whispered back, "I won't let you down."

"Fine then," Jack said. "Go ahead."

Sky nodded, and went down on one knee beside the fallen motorcycle. He removed the glove from his right hand and placed it gently on the cycle. He closed his eyes.

An immediate barrage of blurred images invaded his mind, causing Sky to frown and grimace. _Come on_, he told himself. _I need to do this. I **have** to do this. For…_

For _what_, really?

Duty?

Fulfilling his obligations to SPD?

Satisfying the clauses under Section 24 of the SPD handbook?

_No,_ Sky thought determinedly. _I'm doing this for Bridge. I'm doing this to find my friend_. _Not as a duty_. And there, he thought, lay the primary difference between him and Bridge. While Sky did enjoy his work – it often seemed to others that it was his only religion – he only saw his work as just that – _work_. Obligations to be fulfilled, rules to be followed, the clockwork mechanism of fighting criminals and ensuring peace in the city. The people he saved were nothing more than the 'general populace'. A part of the system.

Bridge, however, didn't see things that way.

His perception of situations was more _real_ – he fully appreciated the reality of what he was doing. That he was saving a living, breathing individual, from a living, breathing criminal mutant. He remembered the people he had met and saved with surprising detail – he would often go on a tangent during reports to the Commander describing the little girl who had liked a particular brand of candy, or the youth who had just broken up with his girlfriend when the mutant attacked, or the old woman who was just receiving money from a son settled in Australia, when the criminal attacked the bank. Sky would usually click his tongue in irritation in such situations while the others laughed, but it was only now that he realised how _important_ to Bridge all that had been. That had formed the basis for his empathic powers.

That quality was what made Bridge Carson what he was, and Sky had never bothered to recognise it.

Until now.

He tried to concentrate harder, tried to focus on those speeding images and thoughts, though it was like trying to clutch at dandelion seeds in a strong breeze. Snippets of thoughts floated in and out of his mind, some resolving into momentary clarity, while others merely made an emotional imprint as they faded away – surprise, consternation, _fear_.

"Distracted…" Sky muttered through clenched teeth, as the others bent down eagerly to hear him, and Z flipped open a notepad. "Sky… kill… Patrol Cycle…" He gripped the cycle harder. "Triangle… alien…"

Black… overwhelming darkness… punctuated suddenly by the golden sparks emitted by metal skidding violently on the tar… heavy, laboured breathing… a _clang_… a flash of white – agony so pure it almost blinded him… and then… and then…

Darkness.

After an indeterminable amount of time, Sky heard voices permeate the black, concerned and anxious. Calling his name. "Sky? Sky! Wake up!" A hand gently patted against his cheek.

He opened his eyes to see Jack, Z and Syd bending over him – _why am I lying on the bloody damn road?_ – concerned expressions morphing into relief. "Thank God you're awake," Syd said, as she and Jack helped him up on his feet. "We were so frightened when you just passed out for a couple of minutes there."

Sky rubbed the back of his neck, still trying to reorient himself. "Well, that was weird." He looked at Z, gaze steady and calm. "You're right. He was ambushed – knocked unconscious before he could defend himself. He was kidnapped. Probably by one of Grumm's minions."

Syd pursed her lips, while Jack shook his head. Z looked down at her notepad. "Distracted," she read out. "Sky… kill… Patrol Cycle. Triangle… alien." She raised her eyebrows. "Doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah," Jack concurred. "I mean, 'Sky kill Patrol Cycle'?"

Sky bit his lip thoughtfully. "Maybe that's not important at all. Maybe he was just thinking that I'd probably kill him for what happened to my Patrol Cycle." He looked at the sorry-looking wreck that had once been a gleaming patrol motorcycle. "Which would have been the case under different circumstances."

"Yeah, that's it," Syd said. "So now we've got only 'distracted', and 'triangle alien' to work on."

Z took up her train of thought with enthusiasm. "Yeah, and with brains like Kat's on our side, it's only a matter of time before we discover Bridge's kidnapper."

"Whoa, whoa, _wait_, both of you," Jack said, putting up his hands. "We're not going to take any speculation for granted here. We'll go back to HQ and report this and then see what we should do."

"Jeez, Jack," Z said, shaking her head, "You _have_ changed."

"I can't believe you'd say that after you were the one who forced me into joining this organisation."

"_Forced_ you? Well, isn't that just –"

"Guys, stop fighting – Bridge could be in great danger!"

"I don't understand, Syd, why you keep thinking Bridge is a helpless three year old who can't even wipe his own drool."

"Maybe because he sometimes _does_ act that way?"

"Z, that was so totally _not_ funny. I'm worried because of the stuff that's happened recently."

"Actually, I think the recent events might even help him – give Grumm one of Sky's patented glares, and the guy would whither, bones, glass eyes and all."

Sky tuned out of the friendly bickering at that point – _one of my patent glares, indeed_ – as they got into their respective vehicles to get back to SPD headquarters. As he strapped on his gloves and put on his helmet, he thought he could feel a bit of Bridge in the Green Ranger's equipment, grinning at him, saying, "_Relax, Sky. You're getting all intense again_."

_Don't worry, Bridge_, Sky thought determinedly, as they sped away.

_We're coming for you_.

* * *

_Drip drip drip drip_

Bridge Carson turned restlessly in his sleep.

_Drip drip drip drip drip_

_Somebody fix the damn pipe_, he thought, tossing to another side.

_Drip drip drip drip drip_

_That's it!_ Annoyed beyond all measure, Bridge opened his eyes…

… and immediately blanched, infinitely surprised by the position he found himself in.

A green and yellow-tinted strangely organic looking ceiling stretched above him, oozing some liquid – Bridge wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was – which explained the constant dripping. He seemed to lying in some sort of hammock, made of a coarse material that scratched against his skin despite his uniform. Turning his neck toward the circular shaped door on the other end of the small room, Bridge could make out the forms of a couple of Krybots. Guarding the entrance.

Guarding the entrance?

_Oh shit, where the hell am I?_

He tried to lift his head, and was immediately met with white-hot, excruciating pain that forced him to lie down again. _Ouch_, he thought morosely, reaching up tentatively with one hand at the region of pain, feeling congealed blood. _It's what happened last night. I think I might have just allowed myself to be kidnapped._

Bridge sighed.

_Well, that's just **great**_.

He could hear the distant sound of voices, coming closer and closer – somebody was coming. He settled deeper into his hammock and closed his eyes, trying to feign sleep, trying to ignore the shooting pain from his head.

Finally, they were close enough for Bridge to hear what was being said clearly.

"How could you send such a _fool_ on such an important errand? I asked for the Blue Ranger, and he has brought the Blue Ranger's body – but with the Green Ranger's soul in it!"

That gravelly voice was unmistakably Grumm's.

"Well, at least he has brought back somebody – which is much more than what most of your minions were able to achieve in the past few months."

The simpering voice reminded Bridge of steam being released slowly from an old-fashioned pressure cooker – and also of a very familiar alien agent. Broodwing.

"You dare defy me, Broodwing?"

"With all due respect, sire, I think we're all a little tired now, so why not endeavour to work with what we have got already? Also, my… ahem, _temporary employee_ cannot be trusted to rectify this mistake."

A pause.

"I hate to admit this, but you have a point."

"A pleasure to… er, make sense to you, my Evil Exaltedness."

"Yes, yes… and so what if the Green brat's mind is trained psychically? Mora can still try to exploit the situation with her powers, as was the original plan with the Blue Ranger."

"That's the spirit… ahem, I mean, of course, your Majesty."

_And **this** was the Emperor who's conquered more than half-a-dozen galaxies?_ Bridge wondered. _Maybe alien planets out there are more pathetic than I thought_. He paused to reconsider. _Or maybe he's psychic too and knows I can hear him, so he's masking his true terrifying self to put me into a sense of false security so that he could…_

Bridge scowled, bringing his derailing train of thought to a screeching halt.

_I really need to get rid of this habit_. _More important things to focus upon…_

So his kidnapping had been a mistake. They had really wanted Sky – possibly to try and psychically brainwash him and turn him against the SPD, or something equally as straight out of an old Hollywood movie – but now they were stuck with _him._ Bridge Carson. Probably to try the same thing.

Well, now.

Finally the circular door opened with a very organic sounding _flap_ sound, like raw meat being slapped against a butcher's table, and Grumm entered, followed closely by Broodwing. Bridge settled deeper into the hammock. _No sound. No movement. Come on, Carson, still. Focus. You can do this_.

"So the brat's still not awake," Grumm hissed, standing over him. Bridge tried not to choke on the odour. _For a guy with a skeleton as armour, you'd think he'd pay more attention to dental hygiene and bone decay_. "Once he rises, I will have Mora work on him. And then, with an SPD Ranger on my side, nothing can stop me from galactic domination – not even SPD itself!" A hideous, rasping laugh resounded within the room, accompanied by some simpering sniggers from Broodwing.

Finally the affront to Bridge's ears stopped. "Let us go now," Grumm said.

"Of course, your Majesty," Broodwing said. "But before that, if I may be so impudent as to ask, why not let Mora… er, 'work' on him now? His strength now is at its lowest ebb, so surely…"

"I would have had it that way," Grumm said loudly, interrupting him, "if it were not that Mora is now sulking somewhere on the blasted ship, and I cannot find her."

"Sulking?"

"She doesn't seem to like the fact that we chose her… _room_… for temporarily housing the Ranger."

"But, sire, you could have her punished for this impudence, and…"

"… and have her refuse to make me any more of her creations?" Grumm snorted, and Bridge squirmed. _My olfactory senses might as well have been shot to death today_. "Raising that human brat is worse than having to contend with interplanetary defence systems with an army of half-baked robots and an agent who demands money for even a stray laser shot that hits the enemy."

"Ah, ah yes, my sire, that _does_ remind me… I still haven't got my commission for the two mutants that I sent out yesterday, and…"

"Let's just forget we ever had this conversation."

"But my Evil Exaltedness, you did say that…"

"I have given an order, Broodwing!" Grumm boomed suddenly. "You shall get your money only – and I repeat _only _– upon the fruition of this plan. That will be all."

"Of—of course."

The dull _flap_ sounded again as the door opened and closed and the heavy footsteps faded away. Bridge relaxed and let out a deep breath that he didn't even realise that he had been holding._ Okay, so now I'm in a truckload of deep shit. That's just great_. On any other day he might have been able to resist Mora's psychical influence, but _now_, in Sky's body, with _Sky's_ powers, and _Sky's_ strengths and vulnerabilities, he wasn't sure what he could do. Escaping was out of the question for the time being, as his aching head kept telling him. There had to be something in Sky's mental makeup that he could use to construct a mental barrier, or something… though that was not exactly an encouraging prospect, considering how susceptible Sky seemed to be to soul exchanges… first Wootox, then him…

"You know, hearing this kind of makes me feel glad that I'm not a living being."

Hearing the quiet, metallic voice resound within the room nearly made Bridge roll out of his hammock. _Who's… who's **that**?_

"True. At least we don't have to be part of the universal rat-race for food, clothing and shelter."

It took Bridge a moment to realise that the source of the voices were from the two Krybots standing at the door. They were facing each other and seemed settled in the typically human relaxed poses, as if they were two friends catching up on old times.

_Krybots can…_ _**talk**?_

"Really? I wonder about that."

"What do you mean?"

"We're still part of the whole thing – we fight the sentient beings' battles for them."

"Yes, but that _is_ the purpose of our existence. That is our programming."

"I wonder about that too. Is that our _only_ purpose?"

"You mean that we might be part of a bigger design?"

"Yes. Something bigger. Something better. Something that transcends the daily trivialities that we have to contend with."

Bridge broke out of his daze – he could've listened to them all day – and tried to sit up. _Talking robots with a tendency to get philosophical. This might be just what I'm looking for_. "Hey," he said. "You might have something there."

The two robots jerked upright and swivelled to face him. "The Ranger is awake," Krybot number one said mechanically. "We have to inform the Emperor."

"Wait, wait, wait," Bridge said hastily, finally managing to sit up. "Before you go, I'd just like to say that I've been listening to what you guys were talking about. And I think that you may have a very valid point."

"A valid point regarding what?"

"The whole having a bigger purpose thing," Bridge said, trying to sound as earnest as possible. "I mean, working under Grumm must be _such_ a mindless series of _pointless_ fighting, right? You guys deserve better!"

"That may be, but why do you care? Rangers have never hesitated in destroying us by the hundreds in fights."

Bridge licked his lips. He needed to choose his words carefully here. "Those times… those times were a mistake. A big, terrible mistake. If we had known that you guys were actually intelligent beings, we probably wouldn't have mistreated you." He paused. "Actually, considering how you guys are intelligent and capable of thinking for yourselves, Grumm treating you like this would be considered on Earth as a form of slavery."

Krybot number two tilted its head. "Slavery?"

"Yeah," Bridge said, nodding slightly, before the action seemed to burst a couple of miniature atomic bombs in the back of his head. Grimacing slightly, he continued. "If you guys can work with me here – probably pass on the word to your fellow Krybots – we can get you to Earth, where you will be recognised for what you really are. Not just robots that can be dispensed at the convenience of some psychotic alien Emperor, but something _bigger_. Better."

Krybot number one spoke slowly. "The Ranger might have a point."

"Of course I do," Bridge said. "Think about it. My being captured here and talking to you guys like this cannot be a coincidence – it's got to be _destiny_. The first step toward your greater purpose."

Now the Krybots seemed excited – their robotic limbs were starting to twitch as they looked to each other. Finally Krybot number two looked at Bridge. "I think that there is much truth in what you say, Ranger."

"Please," Bridge said. "Call me Bridge. What's the need for needless formality between sentient beings?"

"Right, Bridge," Krybot number one said. "From hereon, we will trust you to deliver us out of our slavery – into freedom."

"Don't worry about it – I will," Bridge said, smiling. "But you guys have to make sure that you and the other Krybots must offer me your utmost co-operation, and follow carefully whatever I say. Is that okay?" The two Krybots nodded, as Bridge's smile widened. This was it. This was his ticket to both a spectacular escape, as well as seriously bringing down Grumm's forces. He was in what Sky would call a 'strategically advantageous position'.

And he was going to make the most of it.


	7. Closer

_**A/N:**_ Sorry about how late this update's been in coming, but my senior year in high school left me hardly any time to spend writing. My interests diversifying into other fandoms probably didn't help, either (but seriously, how long can Power Rangers really hold somebody's interest?), but then I remembered how _fun_ it was writing this fic. So while updates are going to be sluggish, you can rest assured that I _will_ complete this thing.

Also, my heartfelt thanks to those who've reviewed, and those who've PM'd me asking for updates. Much flattered.

Read and enjoy, for things only get more interesting (and crazy) from here on…

_**7: Closer**_

Piggy was going through a phase which he liked to call the 'rough and tumble' of life.

He would've also liked to term it 'caught between a rock and hard place', but that would've sounded less creditable. After all, one needed to keep up a certain reputation.

Caught between the SPD and Emperor Grumm – with Broodwing suddenly trying to break away from the Emperor to form a third front – Piggy had realised that he could not keep up pretences for long. Either side – or both, God forbid – would soon figure out his double-crossing (in fact, he wondered, was it quadruple-crossing in his case?) and have his skin for it. He didn't particularly appreciate being closeted in a containment card; nor did he think being target practice for Mora was an enticing prospect by any vile stretch of imagination.

It was time to take some Desperate Measures.

But how?

"Chef Specialty, sewer soup coming up," he said dully, ladling some of the vile-smelling liquid into a bowl, and proceeding to the table where the order had come from. It was an interesting customer – Darmoan, easily distinguishable by the triangle-shaped head, deceptively scaly skin and a constant habit of blinking those enormous eyes, as if to get out a particularly large bit of gravel that had fallen into them. He seemed insanely happy for some reason – could be all the money he claimed he had suddenly earned – and was very voluble, with the usual group of down-on-their-luck and hey-I'm-just-bored crooks his rapt audience. Placing the soup on the table with the usual "Hope you enjoy the stench, mate", Piggy made to leave. He wanted to close down shop as soon as possible – he wanted to _think_.

_If only I could…_

"Nothing but an unexpected windfall, it was."

_The only way to end this would be to fix some kind of truce between the Emperor and the SPD, but that'd mean no more extra information. No more money. No more customers._

"I probably shouldn't be telling you guys this, but…"

_That wouldn't be good._

"Well, if you _really _insist…"

_Maybe there's another way, something more profitable…_

"One of the SPD Rangers is in the Emperor's custody – and yes, yes, wait for it – _I_ was the one who captured the Ranger for him!"

_Yes… capture…__**what**__?_

Piggy froze in his tracks, as a mixture of raucous laughter, disbelieving snorts and scattered gasps emanated from the impromptu audience. The Darmoan proceeded to defend his case, and Piggy listened intently. The audience still refused to believe him – for some reason someone in the small crowd kept calling "It can't have been _you_, Doofus!" – but Piggy thought that there might be something in there. He had heard that SPD had been out investigating something in the outskirts of the city early that morning – way ahead of their usual morning patrol, exactly where Doofus said he had captured the Ranger – and he had also learnt that their movements had been tense and probing since then. Also, there was the fact that there had been no extensive property damage or intense dogfights, so the morning's matter must not have had anything to do with the usual lot of alien criminals that Grumm kept churning out.

Well, now.

If one of the SPD Rangers had indeed been kidnapped, there was no doubt that the other Rangers would be approaching him for information at any moment. For a few seconds Piggy toyed with idea of getting the SPD Rangers there and practically presenting the culprit on a silver platter, but then again, that would be very bad for business. He would probably never get another customer again, and Grumm would certainly have his neck.

But it was too good a situation to pass up – there had to be _some _way he could take advantage of it…

Suddenly an idea occurred to him, an idea so wonderful, so phenomenal, so marvellous, that he staggered with the force of it, as if it had physically struck him on the face. _How come I didn't think of this before_, Piggy thought, almost in awe. _This is perfect!_

Somehow, since the advent of the B-Squad Rangers, he had fallen away from some of his more devious methods, for no apparent reason at all. _This is not going to be child's play anymore_, Piggy thought determinedly. He was out to save his skin – and earn some good money in the process, of course – and it was time to pull out all stops.

It was also time, he reflected, to pull up some well-placed contacts who owed him life-debts.

One of those just happened to be a certain Blue-head onboard a certain Troobian ship.

* * *

Mora would've probably been very surprised to hear this of her creations, but a certain hierarchy existed onboard Emperor Grumm's ship.

The hapless Krybots, philosophical as they were, and despite being the only section of Grumm's soldiers who hadn't been created by Mora, formed the bottom rung of the social ladder. Next came the Blue-heads, the perennial hot-headed decoys (apparently, they were drawn and created by Mora when she was in a particularly bad mood, which many claimed explained the Blue-heads' tendency to botch up even ridiculously simple plans. This brought up very interesting avenues of discussion for psychoanalysts and neuro-quantum physicists, but that's a topic to be explored later), followed by the efficiently deadly Orange-heads. Next, of course, came the occasional criminal mutant that Mora might create in moments of inspiration (Bubblesworth is a good, if disturbing, example).

Then, of course, Mora (occasionally Morgana), Broodwing, and finally, Emperor Grumm himself.

Many suspected that there might be someone – or something – that the Emperor himself answered to, but the theory was mostly dismissed as a lackey's wistful fantasy. Or maybe it was a bottle of Galaxo Corp's Fiery Troobian Rum.

_Ahem_.

As in the case of any such structured society, of course, there is bound to exist some resistance, some dissatisfaction, some resentment among the less privileged against their superiors. (Again, an interesting topic of discussion for sociologists all over the galaxy – they claimed that the invasion of humans into the galactic psyche had changed it in ways once thought unimaginable. This speculation led to the rise to the formation of an interesting group called 'Banish Humans for a Safe Galaxy', or BHSG, but once again, this is only pure digression.) Following this trend, combined with their philosophical bent of mind, the Krybots' psyche was quite the simmering cauldron, just waiting for the ingredient that would spark them into action.

Whether he knew it or not, Bridge's words were close to making history.

The word passed round the Krybots, accompanied by lots of excited chatter, and a double in the amount of philosophical discourses that the Krybots usually held once a day in the most secluded parts of the ship they could find. The Orange-heads were completely unaware of this sudden unrest, training as they were within the bowels of the ship. The restless Blue-heads, however, were interested.

Maybe 'furious' is a better description. After all, the Krybots weren't nearly as around as much as they usually would be for the Blue-heads to de-stress (which involved nasty dogfights that made what the SPD Rangers did to the Krybots seem like petting), and when the Blue-heads couldn't de-stress, you could pretty much count on them to find a way to do the same.

Among this was a particular Blue-head who had just received a clandestine communication from a… 'friend' (who he had hoped would forget him), and had been given a task – one that he would've normally refused, but in the light of present circumstances, was only too happy to take up.

How much ever it seemed to be the case, the Blue-head wasn't stupid; he had realised that there was some connection between the Krybots' increased activity and the captured Ranger – in the past two days that he had been in their captivity. The sooner he could get rid of the Ranger, the better it would be.

The Blue-head made his way down the long, dimly-lit meandering corridors of the ship, not sure of where exactly he wanted to go – for the Emperor had made sure that precious few of his more temperamental minions knew where the Ranger was kept – but guessing that the area with the highest concentration of Krybot activity would be a good place to start.

Soon enough, he found a room guarded by no less than four Krybots whispering excitedly among themselves. Of course, that meant that it was barely two minutes before they were a mangled heap on the floor, limbs twitching and robotic innards sparking.

The Blue-head was almost tempted into making a typically human gesture of slapping his hands together in satisfaction, but decided Piggy's sudden 'request' was a disgusting-enough vestige from an ill-advised sojourn he had undertaken on Earth a few months earlier – a sojourn which had ended in him being in Piggy's debt.

He entered the room cautiously – obviously long-standing experience of being on the wrong end of a Ranger's blaster had taught him to be wary of them, even if captured and injured – to see the Ranger stretched out on Mora's hammock. He seemed to be currently in the throes of a very restless sleep, brow creased and beaded with sweat. The Blue-head recognised him to be the one who morphed into the Blue Ranger – definitely one of the stronger Rangers – and wondered which one of Grumm's minions had been strong – rather lucky – enough to capture him.

He went on to gather the Ranger carefully into what a human would describe as a 'fireman's carry', his robotic body lending him the strength to handle the deadweight easily. The young man gave out a pained groan, but didn't respond otherwise, and the Blue-head wondered if Mora had been visiting him. To think of it, Mora _did_ seem unusually happy earlier that morning…

The escape pod that he had arranged to get the Ranger to Earth was waiting for him at the other end of the ship, and if he made a quick break for it – who cared about jarring the Ranger's injured head – he just might be able to make it in time. He stepped out of the room…

… to find himself staring at a black army of Krybots stretching down the corridor.

To employ another typically human expression, _Uh oh_.

"You will _not_ harm our Saviour," the Krybot in front intoned, raising his weapon arm. The rest of the Krybots repeated the same action in eerie unison.

This was going to be a big bother.

For all of their philosophical discourses, the Krybots were not too intelligent – despite the obvious advantage of numbers, the corridor was too narrow to allow more than three to four Krybots to approach him at one time, a number which he could handle even with short-circuited visual systems. It was, however, going to be an unnecessary waste of time, and he had to dispose of the Ranger before the commotion attracted Mora's or Grumm's attention.

He turned to go the other way – only to find Krybots blocking _that_ route of escape as well.

Well, then. Blasted unpredictable robots…

"Hand over the Saviour!" the same Krybot cried, and the robot army began to close in upon him from both sides.

He would have to fight them. There was no choice. But the Ranger was going to be cumbersome, and that meant it was time to employ Plan B. He slipped into the only route that was available to him sans Krybot – Mora's room. The Krybots began to pour in after him. He ran to the opposite end, where he stroked at an organic panel, which opened a small door in the wall, just big enough to fit the Ranger into. He threw the still-unconscious Ranger into the sloping garbage chute headfirst. It ended in the disposal dump not too far away from where he had hidden the escape pod, and with luck, nobody would come that way until he made it there himself.

_This is going to stink, Ranger, but you deserve it._

He turned to face the Krybots, weapon hand sparking, and charged.

* * *

Bridge was dreaming.

Unlike most of his dreams, though, a brilliant light seemed to fill the universe, blurring his surroundings, making them indiscernible. He could feel the rush of wind in his hair, a quiet exhilaration fill his veins as his body swung back and forth. Yes, this swing was very nice. So very nice to be alone. On this swing. Nobody… nobody to bother him now.

Despite the exhilaration, however, there was also sadness.

An empty sort, that just ate away at you. Not the kind that would make you cry – no, he was too big to cry now. He was nine years old. Not a little kid anymore. Mother cried, though, for a long time – and that disturbed him, but he was not going to cry. He was going to be like Dad.

Dad, who was much more than just that burnt helmet they gave him.

Dad, loving as he was scarce, generous as he was strict.

Dad, of whom he had seen more in newspapers and television than at home.

Dad, his hero.

The sadness now rested heavily in his chest, like somebody had opened his ribs and put it there. The swing slowed down, and finally halted, but still, he told himself, he was not going to cry. He may think about Dad, but he was _strong_. He was not going to cry.

"Hey, hey you! Get off that swing."

The bright light that cocooned himself in his beautiful world of solitude faded to reveal a couple of boys leering at him. They seemed to be a couple of years older than him, and were giving him decidedly menacing looks.

"Sorry, but I'm not finished."

"Yes, you _are_," one of the boys said, taking a step forward.

He remained in his seat. "Sorry, but I _can't_. You'll have to wait." Dad may have taught him to be strong, but Mother had always insisted on total discipline, and that involved politeness, whatever was the situation.

"Oh, _sorry_," the other boy said, in what he thought was a mocking tone, "but we _can't_, prissy boy." With that, he overtook his friend, and grabbed his collar. "Get off the swing."

"I can't," he returned calmly.

The bully didn't respond. Instead, he hauled him off the swing, and pushed him aside roughly. He stumbled, trying to regain his balance, before his head impacted against one of the metal supporting bars of the swing, and a sharp, agonising pain shot through his skull, and while the world descended into darkness, and he could feel the rush of wind around him once again, he was falling, falling, falling… surely into the deepest pits of hell – the demonic stench was overpowering – and he could not even find the breath to utter a prayer, a name of a friend, and suddenly it was over, he had fallen, the darkness swirled and roiled, swallowed itself, and…

Bridge opened his eyes.

* * *

"I cannot see any other avenue of possibility," Bridge said, his gaze intense and his lips set into a thin line.

_No_, Syd thought, running a finger along the console she was sitting at, _not Bridge. __**Sky**__. _

She didn't know whether to be relieved or sad.

"So you're saying the kidnapper might be Darmoan," Z said, resting her chin on a cupped palm.

Bridge – _Sky_ – rolled his eyes. "_Yes_, what did you think I was saying over the past few days?" He ran an agitated hand through his hair. "We've been lying low and investigating for too long. We've got to pick up a likely thread and start to _act_."

Jack narrowed his eyes. "There's a procedure for this, you know. We may be Rangers, but we're also police."

Sky's lips trembled with an emotion that fascinated Syd. Sure, she had seen _Sky_ pout like that several times before, but when _Bridge's_ lips did it, she had to admit that he looked rather… sexy? Mm, oh yes. She felt like a teenager contemplating on her first crush, really, but for some reason…

"Blast and hang the procedure!" Sky growled, bring a screeching halt to Syd's careening train of thought. "Are you still thinking about what Commander Kruger told you? Is that why you are being so cautious? What's _wrong_ with you?"

Jack gave a loud, disbelieving laugh. "What's wrong with _me_? Did Mr. Sky Rulebook-is-my-Bible Tate just diss me for following _procedure_?" He shook his head. "No way that's the right question, man. A better question is, what's wrong with _you_?"

Sky raised an eyebrow. "You really want a list, man? How about I start with –"

"Enough is _enough_," Syd interrupted, surprising herself. The other three turned to look at her, surprised. "Sky's right. We've looked closely at every other possibility, and it's time we saw into the possibility that the kidnapper is a Darmoan."

Z raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Because they've got triangle-shaped heads?"

"Well, I agree that they are not the only species with triangular heads, there _was_ the Jessods of Traal III, but an unexpected meteorite shower meant _their_ extinction about a couple of million years ago, so…"

Sky laughed. "Jessods of Traal III?"

Syd frowned. "Well, yeah…" Somehow she didn't like the tone of that laugh at all…

"Let me guess, Bridge told you that story, right?"

"Uh, yeah…"

"Well, you should've known better than to believe everything Bridge tells you."

"You mean to say –"

Jack slammed an impatient fist on the table, effectively cutting her short. "Let's stop getting distracted, people! The Commander has left this investigation as our _sole_ responsibility, and it's about time we started getting more serious." Satisfied that he now had everybody's undivided attention, he continued. "Okay, so we know that Darmoans are traditionally a peaceful lot, you don't see many of them taking up crime, particularly on Earth."

"Hey, there're always exceptions," Syd muttered.

"Whatever it is, Darmoans are _not_ the ideal choice to carry out crimes. You said that you were sure you sense Bridge on Grumm's ship?" Jack said, looking at Sky, who nodded. "I can't be sure," Sky said. "But he's certainly not on a place that's Earth-bound."

"Why would Grumm hire a Darmoan to kidnap Bridge when he's got so many better candidates for the same job?"

Z shrugged. "To confuse us, maybe?"

Jack dipped his head into his hands. "Maybe. Maybe it's because Darmoans who take to crime are usually subservient, and can probably be trusted to be more loyal. Maybe other criminals would've taken Bridge for their own sick blackmailing exercise, or something." He chuckled into his sleeve. "Hey, Z, remember the Darmoan who used to regularly take food and clothes from us before SPD happened? What was his name again?"

Z laughed. "Yeah, everyone used to call him Doofus for some reason. Always kept saying his single biggest dream was to work for Grumm one day…" Her voice tapered into silence, and her eyes widened. Jack lifted his head, and the two friends stared at each other. "No _way_," Z breathed.

Syd looked from one Ranger to the other. "So you think the Doofus guy is it?"

"It makes sense, in some convoluted way," Jack said, getting up. "Darmoans generally avoid Earth, as a rule, so a person like Doofus is rare." He grinned. "Anyway, no harm in checking it out."

"I take it that this 'Doofus' character is not a registered citizen of Newtech city," Sky said dryly. "How do you plan to trace him?"

Z smiled. "Oh, I think we have a pretty good idea of where he'll be," she said, getting up as well.

"Let's get a move on, people!" Jack said, moving out of the Command Room briskly, Z close on his heels. Sky was the last to get up, his troubled eyes meeting Syd's – clearly, he was doubtful.

"Well, you asked for action, and this is it," Syd said, shrugging.

"Yeah, I suppose," Sky said, managing a small smile, and walking out the open door. Syd stared after him, immersed in thought. Sky had changed – and yet, he remained the same. He seemed to be caught between two poles, and she imagined that there was nobody more confused about the whole situation than Sky himself. She wondered if Bridge was feeling the same dilemma.

The thought of Bridge stoked the void that had been growing within her steadily over the past few days once again. She missed him with an intensity that she didn't think was possible – their team suddenly seemed like an incomplete and muddled jigsaw puzzle, and she hated it. She hated the empty feeling, and she hated missing Bridge quite this _much_.

_Come back, Bridge. We need you_.


End file.
